Gone
by UglyTruth
Summary: "Thank you, Wanderer," she whispers, her first exchange with the soul that she speaks out loud. There's fondness curling in her chest as she looks upon the creature who can't hear her anymore, "I think it's my turn to help you now". The first hours of Melanie's return and the reactions to her humanity being restored.


_**Gone**_

Although hearing is usually the first sign of regaining consciousness, touch manages to dominate this time around. Her body tingles strangely. It's warmth. She remembers what it feels like but it is as though her skin wants to rediscover it. As though her senses need confirmation that they function.

It is a near bodiless experience and some deep-rooted rationality tells her she isn't entirely awake yet. Not in control. It's still dark and the silence in her ears only fades slowly, giving way to muffled noises.

There's something off about this situation. She can't recall what brought her here, into this slumber. At least she thinks she has been sleeping because that languid, disoriented feeling usually stems from that. It's beyond that though. It's different, this state of waking.

Finally her ears sharpen and she can distinguish sounds. They're human and they're speaking a language she understands. She hears a name and it takes a moment to realize its familiar. Melanie. Melanie. Her name.

Three simple syllables but they send a wave of sudden, interrelated thoughts rushing through her mind. If she is Melanie then something has happened. She hasn't been herself for months. She remembers that, it's flooding back now. She was pushed into the background, a shadow in her own head and incapable of controlling her body. It was taken from her. Invaded and inhabited by an alien parasite.

God, no. She's never felt her consciousness return so rapidly but realization lets her snap out of the physical stupor. Wanderer is gone. There's a silence, an unexplained empty space inside her that she hasn't taken notice of before. Her body has readjusted to accommodate only her own thoughts.

The gasp ringing in her ears is the same that rushes past her lips.

More voices rise and her name is being said over and over. It's closer than before, accompanied by a physical presence beside her and she's starting to panic. Not because she's afraid of the presence but because she is confused. They are coaxing her out of the darkness into reality and she doesn't know if she can face it yet. Being a vessel for another creature has taken its toll on the composure she usually had in every situation.

She is scared and without reason. Scared to open her eyes and face the world alone again. Without her friend, her protector and closest companion. She's wanted it for so long but now it feels wrong. Battling for her freedom is suddenly less meaningful. The thought of somebody committing suicide, somebody she is so intimately connected to, doesn't quite reach her.

A hot sensation on her skin and she pinpoints that someone has taken hold of her hand. She tries to focus on breathing and making muscles work that feel disjointed. Light slides under her eyelids as she blinks and she almost wants the darkness back. Blinding and harsh, it welcomes her back into her world and she is powerless to refuse.

Faces materialize as she makes out her surroundings. People that belong to the voices. One face in particular leans over her and there is so much emotion in the eyes that she is stirred just by looking into them. She knows that face. There are many memories of the fingers that hold hers with care and desperate strength at the same time.

"Jared," she says with a heavy tongue and although it comes out as a murmur, the pressure of his fingers on hers tells her he understood. His lips press against her knuckles briefly before he loosens his hand, bringing it up to frame her face. The touch is so soothing in its familiarity and yet there is foreignness of a sensation she hasn't felt in while. At least not directly. Always experiencing through a pair of eyes that weren't hers to use anymore.

"I knew you'd come back," he whispers and the relief in his voice has goose bumps rising on her skin, "I knew it, Mel"

There's more feeling in her limbs now and she tries her best to make them obey her. She wants to hold that face in her hands, feel him under her fingers and convince herself this is real. After all those times Wanda has kissed him, she wants to experience it for herself. It's selfish but this is Jared and he is alive and hers alone. She has nobody she must prove that to but that doesn't make the longing any less.

His smile grows wider as she reaches up and hooks her hand into his shirt, pulling herself shakily to sit up. Movement grows easier, more natural with every passing moment. She holds on, hooking the other hand around his neck and guiding him to meet her halfway.

Where there was warmth before, there is fire now. So much to say to another but the overwhelming effect of physical contact is enough for now. She has missed this more than he will ever know. She has missed _him_.

The kiss is brief but ever so gratifying. This is what coming home feels like. When they pull apart she can feel the tears of relief on both their faces. She drops her hands to keep her balance as she sits up fully and braces herself on the side of the cot. He is everywhere, stroking her hair, shoulder and spine as though to confirm that body and mind are one and the same again.

She glances across the room, filled with men, some of which she is technically meeting for the first time. Doc, who looks sombre and drops his gaze when hers lands on him. Jeb, imposing as ever, even though he is slouching in a chair and watching the scene with a small smile. Finally, her eyes rest on the last of the group. It's Ian and he is staring back at her with a blank expression. He wasn't easy to read even with Wanda in her head, overanalysing every moment of interaction, and he sure isn't now.

She swallows hard and raises her eyes, still watery, to Doc. "Have you done it?"

Nobody needs to ask what she is referring to. There's a moment where the silence turns thick and she feels Jared's hand still on her back. Then Jeb surprises her by heaving a chuckle from where he sits. "You honestly think any of us would have let that happen?"

Doc moves aside and draws her attention back to him and onto the container he reveals standing on the desk. The steady glow of the casing tells her it hosts an alien occupant. Her eyes fill up again and she staggers to her feet, escaping Jared's steadying hand to move towards the captured soul. Out of the corner of her eye, she notices Ian twitch, almost rising from his seat but restraining himself at the last moment.

She doesn't care what he thinks in this moment. She might seem like a murderer to him, wanting to get rid of Wanda at all costs to take her life back. None of them will ever understand the bond they have and battle following the soul's decision to die. All she wants is to see Wanderer, to know she is safe and that she hasn't betrayed her. Crouching in front of the cyrotank, touching her fingers to the metal, her sob of sorrow turns into one of happiness and the world turns brighter with the contact.

"Thank you, Wanderer," she whispers, her first exchange with the soul that she speaks out loud. There's fondness curling in her chest as she looks upon the creature who can't hear her anymore, "I think it's my turn to help you now"

She only tears her eyes away when a hand wraps around her upper arm and guides her to her feet again. She allows the touch and turns to face Doc. The man looks exhausted and now that she has convinced herself of Wanda's safety, she truly looks at him. On an impulse, she reaches up and pulls him into an embrace.

"I know she'll thank you for it," she tells him before backing away.

The words visibly do him some good. The serious lines around his mouth soften but the guilt in his expression stays. "Perhaps. Although it was others who made that decision for me"

She glances over her shoulder, catches Jared looking away with a smirk. It's easy to guess that there was force involved in keeping Doc from fulfilling his promise. She's tempted to ask about it but the medic distracts her by insisting on checking her vitals.

She's still in awe about being master over her own body again. It's simple to find her way back into something that irrevocably belongs to her but going about it consciously is strange.

Jeb walks out during her examination, muttering something about having to get some sleep. Jared stays, never taking his eyes off her and Ian too, although his focus only wavers from the cyrotank occasionally to look at her. She wonders what he sees. If he regrets.

When she is finally declared physically healthy and Doc leaves her to her own devices, she also looks back at the container. "Has anybody thought about…? I mean, you saved her and I can't thank you enough for that. But you know she doesn't want to take another life. What was the point of saving her if she refuses to take a new host? We can't leave her in there"

Ian is on his feet, standing protectively beside the desk and the blue in his eyes has turned stormy. "Nobody is going to touch her"

"I never said anything about hurting her," she retorts, brows drawing together in irritation, "You think I would do that?"

"Hey," Doc intervenes before Jared can open his mouth to enter the dispute, "There's no need to get loud. There's plenty of time to discuss how to go on from here. But you just woke up and I suggest you take a day or two to get settled before making decisions about other's lives. And Ian – I assure you that no one will lay a hand on that container"

The younger man takes a deep breath, taking a step back to fall back into his chair. She can see the shadows under the eyes and the worry seeping through his body language. He runs a hand over his face, catches her gaze and says, "Sorry. It's just been…"

"Crazy," she finishes. He doesn't reply but his eyes trail back to the tank, his indecision apparent.

"We should all get some rest. She's not going anywhere," Jared suggests and she's almost surprised by the calm rationality in his voice. It's so different from the previous weeks, where her inhabitant brought out both the worst and best in him.

Doc nods and although Ian insists on sleeping in the room to stay near Wanda, there is finally agreement. She doesn't feel drained at all, rather like just having awoken from a long period of sleep but she doesn't resist Jared's beckoning. Simply the feeling of his hand in hers is something she's dreamt about for months. Experiencing the reality is practically indescribable.

She throws another look back at Ian before walking away but he's absorbed in his own thoughts, looking absolutely drained where he leans against the wall. There's a moment of empathy, where she thinks about staying, offering him comfort. By doing this, Wanderer has given up on them and knowing what has been said, she can understand his torment. Knowing there's nothing she can say to help.

It's empty in the tunnels and she gathers that it's quite late. Being in this environment, her desire to see Jamie flares up, almost stronger than her longing for Jared right after her return. She knows he would have been the first at her bedside, had he been awake. Well, second after Jared.

"Where's Jamie?" she asks.

"Still sleeping. He'll find out what happened soon enough. I didn't want to wake him in case…"

She understands what he doesn't say. After already fading away once, it could have been possible that she didn't make it back after the extraction either. She leans against Jared's arm, soaking in the strength of his body as they walk. Not that it's necessary. She knows the tunnels almost as well as he does by now and doesn't stumble in the dark.

When they come to a halt in front of his room, she doesn't even question that he lets her step inside first. She stares at the mattress, trying to piece together this reality. It is beyond surreal. Sometimes she almost gave up hope on this. Returning to him as a human. Sharing a bed with him.

They can't pretend as though this insane episode of their lives never happened. She's not the person she was before her capture just like he has changed since she disappeared. Still, the familiarity of his presence, his fingers against hers, is so wonderful that is hurts.

She turns back to him.

His eyes are dark despite the faint light in the room but she knows they haven't strayed from her for a second. There's a strange déjà vu of the moment they met. His face was wild and unbelieving at the sight of her, a human in a world practically lost to aliens. Years later, she witnesses it all over again. Only this time, she's the one that initiates the kiss.

He groans when she backs him into the rock wall. Hands around his shoulders and she gasps when his fingers press into her hips. Not enough. Never enough. It's been too long. When the fire is encouraged, it is nothing short of all consuming. His fingers slide into her hair, strands falling through and she responds by arching closer, abandoning his lips to kiss along his jaw.

He's the one that eventually breaks away, keeping her at an arms length for a beat. His breathing is harder, she's not oblivious to the effect she has on him. His hands are trembling with repressed energy and it feels like the air around them is charged.

She can sense the need in her tone when she tells him, "I guess I haven't been kissed in a long time"

He laughs. "You're not exactly out of practice"

"I've missed this," she whispers, letting her eyes drift from the visible jump of his pulse back to his eyes. The last word is spoken as a promise._ "You._"

He is quiet, then his lips touch hers again and the tenderness of it makes her weak. She finds the hem of his shirt and flattens her palms over the burning skin underneath. The muscles in his back have grown wiry from hard work and they quiver at the contact. He steps forward, moving her onto the mattress.

Their hands never leave each other and as he moves to cover her, she pushes the dust-coated clothing up over his head. She spots a new scar on his left bicep and her hand brushes over it as she clings to him. A trait she only notices because the memory, the image of him, has stayed ingrained in her mind. Wanderer was right when she said that this body would always want Jared. She cannot imagine touching, loving another man that way she does him.

He's gentler than she remembers him with his caresses. They are both savouring this experience because with everything happening this past year, they have both come to acknowledge that they truly may just have this, now.

When they finally connect skin on skin she wants to freeze the moment, knowing that it will not come in this form again. Desperation, anxiety, anger, exhilaration, relief, joy, love, all meshing together in the space. They will never feel this the same way twice.

By the time they're moving in sync, raining breathless kisses across each other's bare skin, she's lost all ability to think. The possessiveness with which he holds her steals her breath, leaves her unable to do anything but give in and give back. Everything about it is imperfect, from the lumpy mattress pressing against her spine to the dust grains she can feel coating her but there is nothing she would change about this.

The night isn't yet close to lightening when they collapse beside another, completely spent. Still she finds herself searching for proximity. She runs her fingers across his jaw, tracing the line of stubble again and again and holding his stare with full intensity. He draws meaningless shapes on the back of her neck, dipping away just before he reaches the barely perceptible scar. He watches her with an expression that she's not seen him wear in very long. Tranquillity.

"I missed you. Every day," he murmurs, "I looked at you and saw someone else. You can't imagine the feeling. It reminded me every time that I had failed you"

"Jared, stop," she grips his wrist, tightens her fingers on it, "Don't take the blame for something you couldn't control. I could never make you responsible for what happened. I was the one that went out on my own"

His eyes become clouded. "I _hurt_ you. More than once"

She doesn't argue with him on that point and shakes her head slightly. "It doesn't matter now. If you want to apologise, then go right ahead. But it's Wanda you should be asking to forgive you"

"I will," he says, "Not that she is one to hold grudges"

The comment has her smiling. She has to remind herself that everyone in the caves has gotten to know her friend almost as well as she did. Thinking about it brings back the guilt. "I want her back. It might sound crazy but I miss her. Not inside me. But speaking to her, arguing with her, it just seems so unfair to lose that so I could be myself again. She gave up everything to get me here. To find you and Jamie."

"Yeah," he gives her _the_ look, "And how much of that was your doing?"

"…Some"

"We'll find a way," he assures her, pulling her closer, "She's not gone yet"

She wraps her arm around his waist, head cradled beside his neck. There's nothing more to say on the subject and she contents herself with simply laying there, another heartbeat thrumming against her ear. A sure sign that he is alive and here with her.

She thinks of Wanderer in her natural form and muses that maybe there's a tiny heart pulsing in her body too, right at this moment. She knows there is no way her journey ends this way. She refuses to let those altruistic ideals get the better of her. She will find a way.

She has to smile to herself. She's living in a time where the worst enemy can become the dearest friend, where humans can fall in love with another species, where the lines between good and evil can become so blurred it is difficult to remember what is being fought for.

She's seen through other eyes now. They truly are the strangest world.


End file.
